Cake, Cookies, and Cream
by oreo1717
Summary: Jeanmarco College AU one-shot in which Jean worries over what baked goods would be best for Mikasa and Marco sheds some light upon disappearing gingerbread titans. Fluff!


**~Cake, Cookies, and Cream~**

"Marco!"

At the sound of his name, the man whips his head up from the carton of ice cream it'd been buried in. Jean's voice echoes down the hall, quickly followed by the _thump-thump-thump_ of his feet across the wooden floorboards. Guiltily, Marco shoves the spoon into the chocolate cream and steps in front of the counter, hoping to hide his indulgence from the other man.

"Yes?" Marco asks, smiling bashfully to cover his unease.

Jean storms in, his chest rocking with angry huffs of his breath. "Marco! Have you broken into my secret stash?!" he growls, glaring mightily at the boy hiding the carton and his guilty face.

"Your…" Marco tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy. "Your secret stash?"

"Of cookies, Marco!" Angrily, Jean runs his hands through his hair. "I've been saving them since Christmas for Mikasa's birthday! And now… they're gone!"

"Oh!" Marco smiles widely. "The cookies shaped like titans that we made on Christmas Eve?"

"They were gingerbread men!" Jean protests, sighing. "We used cookie cutters and everything!" His cheeks grow red as his anger fades, and his emotions lean more towards upset, disappointed. "After all you did… helping me make those cookies… and now I've got nothing to give to Mikasa."

Marco's heart flutters despondently at the name of Jean's crush, and his smile is just a touch sadder than usual. "Of course I didn't eat them, Jean. If you want, I'll help you make some more."

Jean sighs heavily, burying his hands in his pockets and pacing back and forth moodily. "We don't have the money for cookie mix. I'll bet it was that goddamned Jaeger…" Jean's eyes flick to Marco's face, causing his plunging frown to deepen. "Hey, Marco, what's on your chin?"

Hastily, Marco rubs at the remnant of the chocolate ice cream, grinning apologetically and swallowing to quell his hidden nervousness. "Oh, ah, Jean, I'm sorry… I was just really happy because… well… I ate your ice cream."

Jean's voice is deadly, his eyes wide with disbelief. "_You did what?_"

Marco's eyes slip down to the floor. Shuffling his feet, he refuses to meet Jean's piercing gaze. "I – I'm sorry, Jean. It's just that – that I got into your college and – and I was so happy and… I wasn't thinking!"

"You got in?" Surprise cuts through Jean's anger. "Marco, why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you were sleeping and –" Marco freezes. His mouth drops open. Bemused, Jean watches him with a furrowed brow, waiting quite impatiently until Marco releases a high, nervous chuckle, his eyes lighting up like stars. In his laughter, Marco doesn't notice the soft smile twisting Jean's lips.

"I peeked in at you!" Marco cries through his giggle. "You were sleep-eating! The cookies! I thought it was bread or something, but you ate Mikasa's cookies in your sleep!"

"Dammit… no way!" Jean turns his back on Marco, miffed, sticking his nose into the air. "Connie sleep-eats! Not me!"

"You must've picked it up last year, before we became roommates," Marco chuckles, beaming, "because you do it quite a lot. Why do you think I keep all my beer in my dorm? I don't want you to sleep-drink."

"No…" Jean runs his hands through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" He thrusts his head back, causing the hazy afternoon sunlight to cascade down his graceful neck. "Oh, I should've hidden them better! From myself!"

"It's okay!" Marco opens the drawer with a rattle of metal, grabs another spoon, pelvic-thrusts it shut and approaches, smiling, with the carton. "Here, let's eat some ice cream together! Watch a movie! Maybe a romantic one? That'll stimulate some ideas for Mikasa, right?"

"Uh…" Jean grabs his spoon, staring uncomfortably at his distorted reflection in the metal. "No, no romance movie. Ice cream, I'll take you up on."

"Okay, Jean!" Marco beams at him, blushing slightly. "That's okay! We'll find some other way to think of a birthday present… for Mikasa…"

Though he can feel the man's gaze trained intently on him, Marco happily shovels ice cream into his face, grinning blindly as he does so.

"Ah, fuck it."

Marco's eyes snap open, and he almost chokes on his ice cream. Swallowing with a struggle, he whispers, "Jean, what do you mean? I'm willing to splurge and buy cake mix if you want…"

"I meant what I said." Jean shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, and has no difficulty speaking as he chews. "Fuck. It. She's going to get a cake from Jaeger, and the cookies were probably stale anyway. She can go without baked goods from this guy, you know? Hey, quit hogging that!"

Jean raps his spoon on Marco's knuckles.

"Sorry." Marco blushes. "So, what do you want to do for Mikasa's birthday, then?"

"Show up." Jean makes a soft noise of pleasure that sends Marco into tingles. "This ice cream is so good. Thanks, Marco. So, you've been A, keeping the fact that I sleep-eat from me, and B, watching me sleep. What's up with that?"

"Where did you get the idea that I watch you as you sleep?" wonders Marco, staring at Jean with a lost expression partnered with a ring of chocolate around his mouth. "It's hard not to notice that you sleep-eat with all the crinkling of chip bags going on all night."

Jean watches without response as the other man cheerfully shovels another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, chewing happily, grinning. So covered by the mask of chocolate ice cream is Marco that he can't see any of the boy's freckles beneath the creamy layer.

"Hold on," Jean sighs, lunging for a tissue. Bundling in his hand, he steps closer to Marco. Just as the ice cream hides his freckles, it also hides most of his bright red blush as Jean dabs at the ice cream around his mouth, fingers brushing Marco's lips.

"You're such a slob," Jean criticizes, rubbing fiercely at a dapple of dried chocolate on the tip of Marco's nose. "Seriously, how can you keep the apartment sparkling but you can't take care of your own face? How are you going to make it in my university if you can't take care of your own face?"

"Sorry, Jean," Marco apologizes, sounding slightly breathy. His brown eyes are wide and reflective, their pupils holding a reflection of Jean's own face, and his blush nearly swamps his constellations of freckles in red. "I'll be good at college! I'll wipe my face! It – it won't happen again."

The napkin pauses on Marco's cheek for a few seconds longer than necessary, and Jean finds himself lost in those eyes; trying to disguise his sudden fascination, he furrows his brow and scowls playfully at Marco.

"Hope not." Jean forces himself to take a step back. "You looked absolutely ridiculous."

* * *

><p><strong>First JeanMarco fic ever, so reviews on characterization would be greatly appreciated. This will most definitely not be the last you'll see of me.<strong>

**Adios!**


End file.
